


Shadows on the Road

by sodium_amytal



Category: Rush (Band)
Genre: 5 + 1, Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 20:17:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10998225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodium_amytal/pseuds/sodium_amytal
Summary: AU. Neil lives a nomadic life, but the one constant is Alex. (Or, five times Neil and Alex meet and one time they stay together.)





	Shadows on the Road

**October 1978**

Neil's a little in love with the feisty blond serving him coffee in a ramshackle Fernie diner. His name is Alex, and he's married, according to the silver band on his third finger, which means his wife is officially the luckiest woman in the world. Alex has wide, innocent blue eyes, fluffy hair, and heart-shaped lips, the latter of which Neil has had at least a hundred dirty thoughts about since he stepped in out of the frigid cold.

The diner is mostly empty, save for the two of them and a cook in the back, so Alex is sitting across from Neil in the booth. He had been intrigued by the leather-bound notebook Neil scribbled into, the rigid perfection of his handwriting, the almost meditative concentration Neil falls into when he writes. Too shy to ask directly about the notebook, perhaps fearing its contents were private, Alex struck up a conversation about Neil's motorcycle parked out front, and over three refills of coffee and a plate of pancakes, bacon and eggs they learned enough about each other to be interested.

"I know you're not from Fernie," Alex says, busying the discarded remains of a sugar packet between his fingers. "But are you from around here?"

Neil shakes his head. The table is a bit sticky from stray droplets of maple syrup. "I'm from Toronto. Well, that's not entirely accurate. I'm from St. Catharines. I live in Toronto."

"So what brings you all the way out here? Business or pleasure?" The playful curve of Alex's mouth suggests this is a flirtation. Neil is common-law married with a baby on the way, but he does not wear a wedding ring. Maybe he should. But part of him wants to encourage this, whatever it is.

"A bit of both. I'm a writer, and I do my best work on the road. I love seeing and experiencing new places. I guess you'd say I'm a nomad two or three months out of the year."

"What do you write?"

"I'm doing poetry right now."

Alex cocks an eyebrow. "You should try doing song lyrics. Probably more money in it."

Neil smiles at him patiently. "Money doesn't buy happiness, Alex." He likes the sound of Alex's name in his mouth.

"Then I guess you wouldn't mind giving me a couple hundred?" Alex chuckles, and the sound is soft and warm, like being wrapped in a sweater fresh out of the dryer.

Neil laughs to himself, his mustache twitching with the movement.

"So how long have you been doing the nomad thing?" Alex wonders, lifting a delicate hand to his forehead and drawing his fringe away from his eyes.

"Well, I spent about a year in England trying to make it as a musician," Neil explains. "Obviously that didn't pan out, so I took up writing instead. I've always loved reading, so I thought I'd try my hand at recreating places and experiences and emotions so that a reader could feel them and see them as vividly as I did. And I love to travel, so this is kind of a perfect marriage of opportunity." He realizes he hasn't actually answered Alex's question. "I've been doing tours of the country on my bike for two years now."

"That's really cool. I've never been outside of Fernie."

"Never?"

"Well, okay, that's kind of a lie. Some friends and I went to Calgary when I turned 18. But that's about it as far as travelling goes."

"Was that meant to be a joke?" Neil asks around a quiet laugh.

Alex grins.

Neil shakes his head. "Terrible."

"It made you laugh."

"It took me offguard," Neil says, but he's smiling. He sips at his now-tepid coffee. "How'd you end up working here?" Alex could be a model, but instead he's here waiting tables.

"My mother owns the place," Alex says with a hint of pride, tucking a chunk of hair behind his ear. "And I needed some extra money now that I have a kid. My dad's a plumber; on weekdays I'm his assistant."

"Something tells me you're not too crazy about either of those. What would you rather be doing?"

"I used to do oil paintings. But I don't really have time for that anymore." Alex smiles to himself. "Kinda weird: you paint with words, and I paint with pictures."

"Two sides of the same coin."

The bell over the diner door dings with the arrival of a new guest. Alex flashes Neil a quick departing smile and slides out of the booth. Neil pretends he isn't watching, but he can't help but notice Alex doesn't flirt with the intruder to their conversation. So it's not an innate sexuality Alex possesses, but something directed and channeled.

Neil feels an illicit tingle in his spine. It would be easy enough. He could ask Alex when he gets off, cocking an eyebrow to emphasize the double entendre. Alex would know someplace secluded they could go after his shift, and they could kiss and touch and give into this mutual attraction. Neil could open him up with spit-slickened fingers, maybe eventually putting his cock inside him. Alex could jerk him off quickly, or put that perfect mouth to better use in a sloppy, awkward blowjob.

It would be easy enough.

No, Neil thinks. He's going to be good.

When he pays the check, he leaves a five-dollar tip with his number written across the top of the bill: _For more dazzling repartee. Neil._

* * *

 

**April 1984**

Six years pass, and Alex's ethereal beauty slips from Neil's memory, lost among recollections of his travels and more prominent memories of his daughter Selena. He hoped Alex would utilize the phone number, but after not hearing from him for a month Neil figured he'd been hasty and foolish in providing it.

In the summer of 1981, Neil stumbled upon success with an attempt at science fiction, his breakout novel _2112_. A tale of government oppression and censorship in a futuristic age, _2112_ was praised among contemporaries like _Fahrenheit 451_ and _1984_. As a result, Neil cut back on his yearly motorcycle expeditions, instead venturing east through Quebec and New Brunswick, opting for more time with his family.

Now he's passing through that sleepy mountain town for the first time in six years, and not much seems to have changed. There are more buildings, more quaint little shops downtown, the local grocery store co-opted by a nationwide chain, but the diner is still there, albeit with cosmetic improvements. Neil parks his bike in the lot and heads inside.

It's warm and bright in the diner, contrasting the cold darkness outside. Either Neil consistently catches this place in the middle of customer lulls, or Fernie isn't much of a pulsating hot-spot after eight o'clock. He slides into an empty booth by the window: the same one he sat in last time he was here. A pretty young waitress with long brown hair fetches Neil a cup of coffee. Neil's disappointed to see Alex no longer works here, but was he really expecting the guy to still be waiting tables after six years?

Pouring sugar packets into his coffee, Neil orders blueberry pancakes. The waitress floats away to the kitchen, where she lingers by the entrance and speaks in a Slavic language with the cook. She tosses a quick, surreptitious glance at Neil, says something else and giggles self-consciously. Maybe she recognizes him from his picture on the hardcover slipjacket of _2112_. This wouldn't be the first time he's been recognized in public, though authors don't earn the same limelight as actors or musicians. So he's not recognized too often, but enough to make him uncomfortable every time it happens.

The cook says something back to her. His voice is soft and gentle, not at all the tones associated with whatever language he's speaking. His words make her giggle again. Neil sips his coffee and listens to their conversation though he doesn't understand it.

When the waitress sets his plate on the table, Neil notices the blueberries are arranged to form a smiley face.

"Tell the cook I appreciate his artistic endeavor," Neil says to her.

The cook sticks his head out of the kitchen entrance, having heard Neil's compliment. "Did it make you smile?" He has blond hair chopped just past the ears, and a mouth Neil wants on every part of his body. Neil is briefly stunned by his English that it takes him a second to realize that's Alex.

"Alex?"

"Neil?" A grin spreads on Alex's perfect face. "Holy shit! I didn't recognize you without that gnarly mustache!"

"You two know each other?" the waitress asks, surprised by their sudden camaraderie.

"He stopped in six years ago," Alex says, oblivious to how bizarre that sounds. He hurries over to the booth and slides in opposite Neil, and it's like they've traveled back in time. The waitress saunters away to let them talk.

"I had no idea you were bilingual," Neil says.

"My folks were from Serbia," Alex says by way of explanation. "What brings you back to Fernie?"

Neil raises his mug. "The coffee."

Alex laughs; Neil can't get over how short his hair is now. "How've you been?"

"I've done pretty well, all things considered. I wrote a novel."

"Is it any good?"

"It did okay. Made the New York Times Bestseller list," Neil says, like that's an everyday accomplishment.

Alex's beautiful blue eyes go wide. "Really? That's awesome. What's it called?"

" _2112_."

"That was you? Oh my God, I had no idea!" Alex's grinning mouth is a thing of wonders. Neil could write poems about it. "I actually just read it about a month ago. You're a brilliant writer."

Neil's cheeks flush, despite himself. "Thank you."

"But that ending was a total downer. I'm holding you personally responsible for my emotional devastation."

"If it makes you feel any better, I struggled with ending it that way. But your typical 'hero saves the day' ending didn't feel authentic to me, even though it probably would have won over a larger audience than just literary critics." Neil rubs his chin. "And people who enjoy sadness."

"Well, I loved it, even though it broke my heart. Are you gonna write more novels or just stick to poetry?"

"We'll see where the road takes me." Neil picks up the syrup container and pours a generous helping over his pancakes.

"I should probably shut up and let you eat, huh?"

"You could let me ask the questions," Neil says, and, no, he's not flirting. Okay, maybe a little, but it's harmless.

Alex straightens up in his seat. "Fire away."

"Do you still paint?"

Alex seems pleased that Neil remembered his hobby. "I try to make time, but it's not the easiest thing in the world when you've got two kids."

Neil swallows a modest bite of pancakes before he says, "What kind of things do you paint?"

"Mostly scenery. Places I want to go. Places I imagine must exist somewhere. You're really lucky you get to travel all over and see the world," Alex says. "At the risk of sounding like a cliché, I know there's so much more out there."

"You can't take your family on a vacation?"

Alex shakes his head. "Even if we had the money, there's always something, y'know? I've lived here my whole life, and I'm kind of sick of it. My wife loves it here, the whole small-town thing. I feel suffocated by it. But you make sacrifices." Alex shrugs, and even though Neil gets the hint he should drop it, he can't help but push.

"How long have you been married?"

"Nine years. But we've been together for sixteen."

Alex probably feels suffocated because he's stayed in the same small town with the same woman for almost twenty years. That's probably half his life, give or take a couple years in either direction.

"Quite a commitment," Neil says, taking a bite of blueberries and syrup.

Alex shrugs again in a way that brushes off the comment. "What about you?" he asks, tipping his chin towards the wedding ring Neil now wears on his third finger.

Neil's a little flattered Alex noticed but shamed his flirtatious infidelity has been pointed out. "We got married after our daughter was born. Just for legal reasons."

"How romantic," Alex teases.

"Jackie is very practical."

"You picked a winner," Alex says, grinning.

Neil sips at his coffee. "I see you got promoted to cook."

"Yeah! Cooking's one of the few things I'm good at that can actually make me money."

"What happened to the last cook?"

"He moved to Vancouver to work at a seafood place."

Neil notices the waitress switches off the neon 'open' sign on the front door. "Are you closing?" he asks.

"Pretty much. But don't worry; you're fine."

Neil eats a little faster, not wanting to hold them up from going home any longer than necessary.

"Do you still have that awesome bike?" Alex asks him.

"Sort of. I've changed out parts, so it's not entirely the same. I call it the Frankenstein."

"You know the monster wasn't actually named Frankenstein?" Alex says with a teasing smile. "That was the scientist's name. You should know that; you're the big-shot author."

"Smart-ass," Neil grumbles good-naturedly, and Alex laughs.

"Can I ask you a huge favor?"

"You can ask."

Alex rolls his eyes at Neil's pretentiousness. "My car's in the shop, so I've been walking to and from work the last couple days. Would you mind giving me a ride home? It's not that far—at least not for someone with wheels. Five minutes, tops."

Neil lifts an eyebrow. "After you just made fun of my motorcycle's name?"

"I was joking," Alex pouts.

"I'll do it, if you do a favor for me." Neil points at Alex with his fork. "Give me your address so I can send you postcards from the places I visit."

Alex exhales a tiny sigh of relief, as though he anticipated Neil's request to be something horrible or embarrassing. "I can do that." He fetches a notepad and scribbles his address down. He tears off the sheet, placing it in front of Neil's plate.

After the diner is closed up, Neil fulfills Alex's request and drives him home. Alex wraps his arms tightly around Neil's waist, filling him with both perverse and pure fantasies. Images of them tangled up in each other, Alex clinging to his waist after sex, or Alex clutching him for warmth on a blisteringly cold night, the two of them wrapped in blankets and sweaters in front of the fireplace. Neil can't decide whether he wants to defile Alex or treat him like something sacred. But a decision is futile, since they're both married.

Brushing off the emotions, Neil lets Alex give him directions through the dark, nearly deserted streets.

"We don't get a lot of motorcycles," Alex says at Neil's ear.

Neil tries not to shiver at the proximity of Alex's voice. "Doesn't seem like you get a lot of cars either."

"It's night time. Most of our population is old people who are already asleep."

Neil chuckles, unsure if Alex is making a joke or if the town is genuinely made up primarily of senior citizens.

Alex directs Neil to his house, and Neil stops the bike at the curb. Alex hesitates a moment, then slides off. His embrace is gone, and Neil feels a little less substantial than before.

"Thanks for the ride," Alex says with a smile. "Maybe next time you stop by I'll show you around."

Neil smiles back; it's hard not to around Alex. His smile is infectious. Like smallpox. "I'd like that."

Neil watches Alex disappear into the open mouth of the house before he starts up his bike.

* * *

 

**September 1987**

Neil's newest book, a mystery novel entitled _Lock and Key_ , is released in the fall of 1987, and he reluctantly embarks on a tour to promote the book at the advice of his agent. Neil enjoys seeing different cities, travelling to and from destinations, but his social skills leave a lot to be desired, his ability to handle adoring crowds even moreso. Authors don't generally get the kind of deranged fans that actors and rock stars seem to attract in droves, so Neil isn't necessarily worried about being asked to sign a fan's copy of _Lock and Key_ in his own blood. But he hates awkward conversations and the general anxiety that comes from interacting with people.

Today's book signing takes place in downtown Calgary, inside a quaint bookshop tucked amongst the towering buildings shooting up towards the sky. The sun is beginning to set, its golden orange shine reflected against the mirror-like surfaces of the city. He managed not to embarrass himself too much today, offering succinct yet polite responses to all sorts of fannish fawning. The crowd has thinned out, reduced to a few lingering customers sitting in chairs at the corners of the shop, enthralled with a book in their lap.

Neil's about to call it a day when a familiar voice chirps, "Hope I'm not too late."

Standing there before Neil's cloth-covered table is Alex, looking delectable in Miami Vice hand-me-downs. His hair is a little longer than it was the last time they saw each other, his build a bit heftier, but the extra weight looks good on him. Everything looks good on him.

"No, I think you're right on time," Neil says with a smile.

Alex grins back, his smile so goddamn radiant it could put the sun out of business. "Nothing for you to sign," he says, showing off his empty hands before he places them flat on the table. His nails are longer than the average man's; Neil imagines them raking down his back, clawing at the Egyptian cotton sheets of his bed. "But I'm sure your wrist is tired by now."

"It gets a lot of practice." The words come out before Neil catches them. He blushes, chagrined by the innuendo that has tumbled out of his mouth without permission.

Alex just smirks and doesn't dwell on the Freudian slip. "If I remember correctly—and I do, because I wrote it on my calendar when I got your postcard—today is your birthday!"

Neil is oddly touched by Alex's attention to the small, seemingly insignificant details of Neil's life that he peppers into his intermittent postcards. "It is."

"Let me buy you a drink. Or dinner. Depends on how hungry you are."

Neil wonders if sharing a meal with Alex would be considered crossing a line. The idea of just the two of them out to dinner feels like a prelude to something Neil wants but shouldn't ask for. Especially when his wife and daughter are just down the street at The Westin Calgary.

Every time they meet they seem to inch closer to an inevitable collision of heat and want.

Or maybe Neil's imagining things, and Alex is just being friendly with no flirtation intended. It's Neil's birthday, so Alex wants to do something nice for him. Isn't that what friends do?

"Alright," Neil says, thinking it over. "Do you like Japanese food?"

"I do, but my stomach doesn't," Alex says with a laugh.

They find an Italian restaurant a block or two away, and it's here Neil gets a first-hand look at just how much Alex can eat. He shovels in at least half a loaf of complimentary bread while waiting for the appetizers, then once the mozzarella sticks come he eats those too, finishing off the tray just in time for his order of lasagna to arrive.

Neil is content with the bread and a plate of spaghetti and meatballs.

"Don't order dessert," Alex warns him, one half of his mouth occupied with bread and pasta. "I brought you a little something."

Neil cocks an eyebrow. "Oh?" He shouldn't be suspicious, but he is.

Alex chews quickly and swallows so he can say, "Birthday cake fudge squares! If you're worried that I poisoned them, I'll eat one when we get back to my car."

"That won't be necessary," Neil says, hoping to discourage any more displays of gluttony. "I trust you. And thank you. It was really nice of you to go out of your way for me."

Alex waves his hand like Neil's being ridiculous. "Don't worry about it. The boys are off on a fishing trip with my dad, and Charlene's on a spa weekend with some friends, so I needed something to do."

Neil can tell Alex is trying to downplay his thoughtfulness, which is kind of sweet.

"Great new book, by the way," Alex says after a sip of wine. "You're disturbingly good at writing fucked-up things that get under my skin. Since when did you start writing horror?"

The book isn't exactly a horror novel, but if it scares a reader who's to say what genre it falls into? "I wanted to try something new. I was reading a lot of Stephen King and Dean Koontz and Clive Barker, and I guess those kind of stories and that particular way of storytelling just rubbed off on me. I absorb everything I read, and it becomes part of my palette, like a painter, giving me a broader range of colors to use. When I really enjoy an author, I try to challenge myself and see if I can create something similar to their work, but with an infusion of my influences and the things I like."

Alex listens with an appreciation for every word, his focus intent and yet somehow gentle, like he just enjoys the sound of Neil's voice. "What are you gonna try next?"

"I can't predict that any more than I can predict the weather," Neil chuckles.

"You don't have any ideas bouncing around in that big brain of yours?"

"I have a few, but sometimes it's important to let ideas settle for a while before you jump right in."

"Fair enough. I can't work like that, though. I have to jump on an idea immediately or else it never gets done." Alex laughs to himself.

"You still find time for painting?"

"It's a little easier now that the kids are older," Alex says. "I think I sent you some pictures of the more recent stuff I've done."

At some indiscernable point in their mail correspondence, Alex began sending Neil envelopes stuffed with photographs he'd taken of his paintings. From what Neil has seen of Alex's work, he's a fantastic artist. Neil wants to buy one of Alex's paintings, but part of him would always feel guilty having it in the house, a tangible link to his emotional infidelity, like lipstick on his collar, flaunted over the fireplace or his marital bed.

Neil nods. "They're breathtaking."

"Are they anything like what's out there?"

"Absolutely. Maybe you're not as untraveled as you're letting on."

Alex smiles and glances away, blushing at the compliment. "I just have a really vivid imagination."

"Maybe you could paint something to be featured on the cover of my next book," Neil offers to distract himself from the dirtier possibilities of Alex's imagination.

Alex's eyes widen. A twitch of a smile forms at the corners of his perfect mouth. "Yeah? Like what?"

"Depends on what the book's about. But it seems a shame for your work to go unnoticed. Authors don't generally get much say about the cover art, but I can twist my agent's arm and work something out with the publisher."

"You're a New York Times bestselling author. You could buy and sell them," Alex jokes.

"Damn right."

Alex is still blushing, and Neil isn't sure if it's a side effect of the wine or his own words. "That would be really great," he says in a softer voice than his usual cadence. "Thanks."

"Consider it returning the favor."

After dinner, Neil follows Alex to his car, where they snack on Alex's homemade desserts. The fudge is incredibly rich, decadent, gooey, and covered in sprinkles. Neil doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, but it's not like eating a piece or two is a chore. He'll never finish all of the fudge in a timely manner, so he'll have to rely on his family to eat them; Selena will love the colorful sprinkles, while Jackie will quietly wonder why Neil has a friend who gifts him sweets.

"These are really good," Neil says, wiping crumbs off his mouth with one hand and packing the treats back in their tin with the other. "If I liked sweets, I probably wouldn't be able to stop eating them." He chuckles, but there's a flicker of disappointment on Ale'xs face, like his gesture of kindness has been rejected.

"Aw, why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know you were going to bake me things for my birthday. You're very secretive."

"Well, tell me what you do like, and I'll make that for you next year. As long as I can send it by mail." Before Neil can answer, Alex snaps his fingers as though remembering something. "Oh, wait! Do you have any strong opinions about banana bread?"

Neil loves the twinkle in Alex's eye, the way an opportunity for a small act of kindness lights him up from within. "I don't mind it."

"I'll make you love it. I have the best ever banana bread recipe," Alex says, quickly sneaking a small piece of fudge before Neil closes the tin. He pops it into his mouth, his pert lips pursed as he chews.

"That's a pretty bold statement. Have you tried every single banana bread recipe?"

Alex puts his thumb in his mouth to lick away the sprinkles stuck to it; Neil tries not to stare. "Don't need to. Mine's the best."

"Then you'll have to prove it by making it for me."

"It's a deal."

In no way could the banter they're having here not be interpreted as flirty. Neil's gazing at Alex's mouth, imagining what it might be like to kiss him, and he knows he has to get out of this car immediately before he fucks up his life and possibly Alex's, too.

"I, um, I should go..." Neil grasps the fudge tin as though it's the only thing anchoring him to reality. "My wife and daughter are at the hotel probably wondering where I am." It's the first time he's mentioned them tonight. Lately, Neil tends to follow an unspoken rule that somehow prohibits him from directly referencing Jackie to Alex. He wants to maintain the illusion of intimacy, this tenuous bubble where Alex is briefly his alone. He understands his own reasons for doing it, but why has Alex only mentioned Charlene once tonight? What's he getting out of this?

Flustered by his own thoughts, Neil asks, "Do you—do you want the tin back when I'm done?"

Alex laughs. "I think I can live without it." His smile is crisp and bright, like the smell of the air after rain. "Happy birthday, Neil."

* * *

 

**October 1992**

Over the next few years, their correspondence heightens. Alex continues to send tasty goodies for Neil's birthday: banana bread (which is indeed the best ever), cinnamon swirl chocolate chip bread, a crumb coffee cake, and peanut butter cookies. Neil's most recent novel, a science-fiction tale called _The Body Electric_ , featured Alex's painting of a futuristic cityscape on the cover. When Neil isn't sending postcards, he writes long letters to Alex, filled with thoughts and minutia he can more sufficiently express when given time to collect his thoughts. He can usually guess when Alex receives these letters, because Alex calls him almost immediately after reading to supply conversation.

Jackie is generally supportive of Neil and Alex's long-distance friendship, though she does forsee a cholesterol problem in the family's future due to all the indulgent recipes Alex provides. Selena jokes about Dad's penpal boyfriend, but Neil doesn't hear her complaining when Alex sends her cookies on her birthday.

One night over dinner—oven-fried chicken with cheesy shrimp sauce, a recipe courtesy of Alex—Jackie says, "Is there any reason you haven't invited Alex here to visit?"

_I'm a little bit in love with him. I think about him when I masturbate. I wonder what his skin feels like._

Neil pauses, fork hovering over his plate. "It's not like he lives right next door," he says with a disarming chuckle. "And he has a family."

"So he can bring them along!" Jackie says. "We've got room."

After the success of _The Body Electric,_ Neil bought a massive cabin in the picturesque solitude of the Quebec countryside. The house has four bedrooms, one of which Jackie set up as a guest room for when their extended family visits during the holidays.

"I wanna meet your secret penpal boyfriend," Selena chimes in, innocuously taking her mother's side.

Neil frowns. "You can't call him that if he actually comes here."

"I won't." Selena rolls her eyes with all the exasperation of a twelve-year-old. "I was just joking."

"Oh, Neil, I think it's sweet you have a boyfriend by mail," Jackie says, continuing the joke, but it cuts deeper than it ought to, because Neil has fantasized and imagined what life with Alex might be like, and it's almost as though Jackie and Selena can sense this yet don't have the good sense to be furious about it.

They can joke because they think it's impossible.

Neil tries to get them back on track. "Regardless, I don't think his wife would be okay with it."

"Oh phooey," Jackie says with a dismissive handwave, censoring herself for Selena's sake. "He'd be visiting a friend, not going to a Vegas bachelor party."

"I get the impression she wouldn't see the difference." From his most recent phone calls with Alex, Neil senses marital turmoil between Alex and Charlene.

Jackie makes a sympathetic expression. "Poor guy."

"Maybe I'm reading too much into things," Neil continues, "but I don't think their marriage is doing very well." Alex hasn't spoken about it, but he might not want to spoil their light-hearted conversations by bringing real life issues into them.

"Then he definitely needs a vacation."

During his next phone conversation with Alex, Neil casually mentions the subject, blaming it on Jackie in case of rejection. "My wife thinks you should come visit sometime. Bring Charlene and the kids if you want. We've got a huge place."

"Aw, that's really sweet of you guys." Neil hears the smile in Alex's voice, but he also hears the impending polite refusal. "But I don't think that's a good idea. Charlene doesn't like to travel. And..." He trails off for a moment. "She doesnt much like me these days either."

So Neil had been right. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Alex says, and the words come out in a gush, like admitting the tumultuous nature of his marriage has opened the floodgates for whatever he's been repressing. "I haven't been myself for a long time. We just... drifted, and I don't even know if I want to fix it. I must've gained at least a hundred pounds since the last time I saw you. Which is just another reason for her to hate me. But I'm always tired, too tired to argue, and I think she hates that more than if I just yelled at her. Is this what happens when you marry the first fucking person who pays attention to you?"

That's a hell of a lot to dump on a guy, especially when their conversations usually aren't so serious. Most of their "serious" discussions revolve around life on other planets, the scientific possibility of traveling through time and alternate dimensions, or whatever news-worthy topic that bothers Neil enough to complain about.

"I'm gonna have to take those statements one at a time," Neil says, easing back in his home office chair. He gazes out the window at the snowy expanse of land he calls his backyard. "So I'll start with the easiest thing first. You probably haven't gained a hundred pounds. Maybe just twenty-five. Or fifty at most."

"Well, I still shouldn't wear a Speedo."

Now there's a refreshing image. Neil swallows. "Not in this weather, at least."

Alex huffs in amusement, and Neil can almost see him smile.

"I don't really know what else to tell you," Neil says. "If you're that miserable, maybe you should make a change. But it's probably a good idea to rule out a chemical imbalance that might have shifted your moods without you really realizing it. Maybe talk to a psychiatrist? You can tell them things you might not want to talk to me about."

"You think I'm depressed?" Alex doesn't sound angry or offended. He almost sounds hopeful, like Neil has finally put a name to whatever he's been feeling.

"I'm not an expert. I just think it's a smart idea to rule out mental illness before you go off making huge life-changing decisions based on how you feel."

"I don't know if I'm depressed though. 'Cause you're s'posed to lose interest in stuff, right? But when you invited me over, that was the most exciting thing I've heard in ages."

Neil feels warmed by this. "Sometimes a place can bring you down. You told me you don't like living in Fernie. And that was almost ten years ago."

"It's gotten bigger," Alex says with a forced chuckle. "But maybe it's a combination of all this stuff: being disillusioned with my marriage and where I live, feeling useless, all the bullshit going on in my head."

Neil wonders what that bullshit might be.

"I guess I'll make an appointment," Alex continues. "Can't hurt. And maybe Charlene will think I'm making an effort."

"An effort at what?"

"Being myself again. Who I used to be. But I don't know if I'm me. People change, y'know? She's changed too, and maybe we just turned into people who aren't compatible anymore."

"'It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person,'" Neil recites.

"Do you still love Jackie?" Alex asks after a short moment.

"I do. And we probably wouldn't have invited you over if our marriage was on the rocks."

Alex sighs. "Lucky."

Neil wants to comfort Alex by telling him monogamy is a relatively modern concept that spits in the face of our innate design, that humans are born to fuck and breed with the best physical specimens to ensure lively, healthy offspring, that what we call romantic love can be scientifically boiled down to a period of one to three years, but he isn't supposed to choose sides. He needs to support Alex's decision, not make one for him or push him towards something that might not be the best choice.

"Every relationship has its problems," Neil finally says. "Are these worth fixing?"

Two weeks later, Alex takes Neil up on the offer to visit. He arrives on a snowy Friday evening with a small duffel bag of luggage. He grins uncontrollably when Neil opens the door. They hug, and Neil gets a quick whiff of whatever cologne Alex has put on.

"Your house is amazing!" Alex says once he's inside.

The exterior of the Peart family cabin isn't much to rave about, but inside is where extensive home decorating and remodeling have been applied. The interior is warm and rustic, with whitewashed wood-paneled walls to open up the rooms, and a stone fireplace and archways. Hanging on the wall are a few paintings of mountainscapes and lakeside scenery, some of which are Alex's own paintings bought by Neil over the years.

"Thank you," Jackie says, since she's responsible for most of the aesthetic choices here. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Alex. Your recipes have really caused a stir around here."

"Was that a play on words? Neil, you never told me your wife was funny!"

Neil smiles. "I thought it might be too much for you to handle."

Selena hurries down the stairs. "Alex is here!" She takes the last stair with a hop and jogs across the family room for a hug. "Thank you for all the birthday cookies!"

"You're welcome! Man, you're polite! I have to practically bribe my boys to send out thank-you notes."

"Because they're boys," Selena says with adolescent disgust.

Alex chuckles and unzips his duffel bag. "I brought you something." He takes out a clear plastic container stuffed with what looks like brownies and hands it to her. "Chocolate chip cheesecake cookie bars."

"Thank you! You're the best not-uncle ever!"

"You can have one before dinner," Jackie tells her, knowing Selena won't be able to resist anyway.

Despite Neil's protests, Alex is more than happy to take over in the kitchen, effortlessly cooking up a savory dinner of shrimp alfredo. Selena helps Alex cook and tells him all about school and her friends and which girls in her class are 'totally lame,' and Alex listens with rapt interest.

Neil can't get over how much Alex has changed. His hair hangs past his shoulders again, though it's thinned out considerably since the first time they met, and he's beginning to bald slightly at the top of his head. He has indeed gained some weight, but Alex has the perfect face, flawlessly working with the extra pounds to emphasize his heart-shaped mouth and cherubic cheeks. He becomes more beautiful every time Neil sees him, which makes Neil wonder if Alex is even real. Maybe Neil crashed his motorcycle back in '78 and is stuck in a coma, dreaming up this ethereal, gorgeous man who desires to be near him.

Neil also can't help but wonder what it means that Alex is here unaccompanied.

Over dinner, Alex mostly talks with Jackie and Selena, because they have plenty of questions for him that Neil never thought to ask or simply never told them the answers to.

"Alex, I'm so glad you found the time to spend the weekend with us," Jackie's saying over a glass of wine. "It's all Neil could talk about since he found out you were coming."

Neil blushes, but he's been drinking too, so he can blame his flushed face on the wine.

"Don't you have any other friends?" Alex says to Neil, cheerfully oblivious to the undertones in Jackie's comment.

"I see them all the time," Neil tries to explain. "And they live around here, so they're not impressed by anything I could show them."

"When you go to the city, all the buildings look like castles," Selena says. "It's really cool."

"Aw, really? We don't have any castles where I'm from."

"Why? Where do you live?"

"I live in a town called Fernie way on the other side of Canada." Alex stretches out an arm to demonstrate the distance. "There's lots of mountains though."

"We have mountains too."

"I never said Fernie was special," Alex says, laughing.

Intrigued, Jackie asks, "So you flew here, then? How was your flight?"

"It was actually my first time on a plane," Alex says.

Selena looks stunned. "You never got on a plane before?"

"When I was your age, my parents didn't have the money to go on vacation really far away. And my wife doesn't like to fly, so I never really had the chance until now."

Neil feels his stomach sink.

After dinner, Jackie shows Alex to the guest room, and Neil tags along like a third wheel, because there's a conversation he needs to have alone with Alex. Alex gazes in admiration at the wood walls, the birch log footposts on the bed, and the branches sprouting like deer antlers from the headboard. A collage of license plates from various states and provinces decorates the wall behind the bed.

"Your house is so beautiful," Alex says to Jackie, and Neil's amazed the woman doesn't disrobe right there from the full weight of Alex's charm and sincerity. "Thank you again for inviting me. I'll try not to be too much of a slob."

Jackie chuckles and playfully swats Alex's arm. "You should see what happens when my parents visit. They always leave clothes and towels and shoes all over the place. It's a wonder they ever find anything. Compared to them, you'll be fine."

Alex smiles. Dear God, how is Jackie not turning to putty in his hands? "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Jackie bids him good night and departs, leaving Neil and Alex alone. Alex slings his bag onto the bed, unzipping and digging around. Neil takes a few steps into the room, suddenly awkward in his own house. "So I guess you're feeling better?"

"Yeah, I went to a doctor like you suggested and they put me on some medication. It makes me jittery, and my mouth gets dry, but it's better than feeling empty all the time." Alex pulls some folded clothes out of his bag, sets them neatly on the bed.

"That's good," Neil says with a nod, even though Alex's back is turned. "What about Charlene? How are things going with her?"

"Oh, we're separated," Alex says, like it's just another thing that happens in a marriage, as commonplace as arguments over the toilet seat.

Neil's heart tumbles in his chest. "What?"

"She's seeking a divorce. I'm not gonna contest it. I want out too. The kids are old enough to understand. And staying together for their sakes would probably do more harm than good."

"Jesus... I'm sorry to hear that."

Alex turns to face him. His expression belies the tragedy in his words. "Don't be. It's for the best. For the first time in a long while, I feel good. Optimistic. And it's better for her, too. She can be with someone who wants the same things."

Neil still isn't sure what to say. He's stunned and saddened, fearing his advice led them here, that his secret longing for Alex has unraveled his marriage like a loose thread being pulled. His own relationship with Jackie seems to have suffered no consequences, so Neil feels doubly guilty. He isn't conceited or delusional enough to think he's the sole cause, but there's a gnawing feeling he was at the very least a factor, one more block atop an already wobbly Jenga tower.

"Hey, half of all marriages end in divorce anyway," Alex says with a shrug. "We had a good run."

"Was it because of me?" Neil blurts out, and it's only when he sees Alex's bewildered expression does he realizes he's said it out loud. He keeps talking, attempting to explain himself so Alex doesn't think he's a lunatic. "Did I say something that pushed you into this or—maybe Charlene didn't like how often we talked—"

Alex just laughs. "No, Neil, you're not the other woman. Sometimes marriages just fall apart."

Then why doesn't Neil believe him?

* * *

 

**March 1994**

"I miss her."

Neil's listening to Alex's soft, despaired voice over the phone, gazing out at the Quebec spring mountains beyond his window. Either Alex's medication is no longer working, or melancholy has seeped into his veins through the cracks in his anti-depressant's protective walls of serotonin. Or maybe it's a mix of both.

"I fucked up," Alex continues, a hitch in his voice. "Maybe the divorce was a mistake. I thought I was miserable with Charlene, but being alone is so much worse."

"You've still got the kids, right?"

"They live with her. But Justin's already moved away to college, and Adrian's getting closer to graduating high school."

"Do you date? Do you go out and try to meet people?"

"No, I just..." Alex exhales a deep sigh. "It's really complicated." He sounds like he isn't sure whether to elaborate. After a moment, he says, "One of the reasons Charlene was frustrated with me was... I think I'm bisexual. Or at least I think I want to experiment with guys."

Neil almost drops the phone onto the hardwood floor of his home office. He swallows thickly, trying his hardest not to imagine Alex getting fucked from behind or sucking cock. But he's been imagining those things for years, and his brain is pretty good at painting a vivid picture. For the briefest moment, he allows himself to take part in those fantasies before shutting them down.

Neil manages to find his voice. "Um, you think?"

"Well, I mean, I've never actually been with a guy, but it's something I think about a lot. And I know I'd like the physical side of it, at least..."

"How do you—" Neil stops that sentence before Alex can provide him with an answer. He doesn't need any more fuel for his perverted imagination. "Forget it. Moving on."

"I'm sorry," Alex says, and he has misread Neil's discomfort entirely. "I shouldn't have brought any of this up."

"No, no, it's okay. We're friends; you ought to feel comfortable talking to me about anything. Your sexuality doesn't bother me. I have a gay friend, which I only mention as a way of suggesting maybe you could visit sometime, and I could introduce you two. He's single."

"You wanna set me up on a blind date over 3,000 kilometers away?"

"I really think you could use a good time with some friends. And meeting someone new wouldn't hurt. You get the whole package here, Alex," Neil says, channeling his inner salesman.

Alex laughs, and even over the phone the sound is intoxicating. "I don't wanna be a pain."

"Your last visit was two years ago. God, you're always bothering us," Neil says, jokingly.

"Jackie didn't invite me this time."

"That's right. I am. But I'm sure she'd love to have you as a guest. Selena too. My family adores you. You're one of us."

Neil hears Alex take a breath. "You're sure I won't be a burden? And what if this friend of yours doesn't like me?"

"How could anyone not like you?" Neil asks, and he means it.

Alex arrives the following weekend, bearing banana bread for Jackie and Neil and cherry chocolate chip cookies for Selena. Once again, Neil is stricken by how breathtaking Alex is, and he has to stop himself from thinking about pulling Alex's naked body into his lap, about the way his thighs would feel around Neil's hips.

"Groovy goatee," Alex says to Neil, grinning like he's genuinely appreciative of Neil's return to facial hair.

Neil strokes his bristly chin. "I thought it was time for a change." He gets a longer look at Alex, notices his hair is different from the last time they saw each other. Instead of long and straight, it's slightly curled at the front and a little shorter than before. "You cut your hair."

"Yeah," Alex says with a self-conscious smile, like he isn't sure if his haircut makes him look like a doofus.

"I'll leave you two ladies alone to trade beauty tips," Jackie says with fondness, leading Selena out to the back porch, where they promptly sample each other's desserts.

"Your wife is so cool," Alex tells Neil in astonishment. "If she were Charlene she wouldn't have been joking."

"And yet you miss her?" Neil volleys back with a raised eyebrow.

Alex shrugs. "The devil you know, right?"

"I think you just miss the familiarity and comfort you had when you were married. I can't imagine being single again. It's probably harder at our age to find someone. There's a lot more baggage that comes with us."

"Does it bother you I treat you like a makeshift therapist?"

Neil chuckles. "I'm your friend. I'm entitled to give advice."

Over dinner (Neil cooks this time, though Alex gives him pointers from the dining room), Alex says, "So tell me about this friend of yours."

Neil almost forgot he planned on setting Alex up with someone, and he internally curses himself for being such an idiot. It's not that he doesn't want Alex to find someone and be happy, but does he really need to be the conduit for this new romance? Bad enough he has a ridiculous crush on Alex, but setting him up feels like salt in the open wound of resentment that Neil can never have him. And now he's signed himself up for accompanying them tomorrow, pretending like he's not dying inside if Alex hits it off with this guy.

"Um," Neil says as all the words suddenly drop out of his brain. "His name is Lorne. He's into motorcycles, music, hockey..."

"So he's male and Canadian? I figured as much."

"He brews his own beer in his garage."

Alex looks at Selena and Jackie. "Is he making this up, or does this guy actually exist?"

"He's real," Selena says nonchalantly, spearing a piece of steak with her fork.

"Is he cute?"

Selena scrunches up her face. "Ew, he's, like, my dad's age."

"Hey, us oldsters can be cute," Alex says, feigning offense. "I've been told I'm adorable."

Neil lowers and shakes his head, trying to hide the fond smile that grows on his mouth.

"I guess he's cute if you're into old guys," Selena says with a shrug.

"Lorne is very sweet," Jackie supplies, because Alex needs a woman's opinion here. "I think you two will get along just fine."

"But is he cute?" Alex asks the important questions.

Jackie's gaze travels upwards, as though imagining something. "I wouldn't kick him out of bed."

"Mom!" Selena whines in disgust.

Neil blushes, slightly scandalized by the admission. Every time he thinks he knows his wife, she finds a new way to surprise him.

"Attractiveness is subjective," Neil says, trying to redirect the conversation. "Alex might have different tastes. I'm focusing more on a personality match. Often the best relationships come when you grow to appreciate your partner's innate beauty instead of immediately being drawn to their appearance."

Jackie arches a perfectly-plucked brow. "So you didn't think I was pretty when we first met?"

Alex chuckles and glances at Neil. "Open your mouth wide for that foot, buddy."

Neil scowls at him, but, really, he has no one to blame but himself. "I was trying to dissuade Alex from focusing too much on physical appearance."

Jackie rolls her eyes with a smile—so that's where Selena gets it from—and doesn't argue any further; she just likes to push Neil's buttons.

The next day, Neil drives Alex into the city to meet with Lorne at an upscale buffet restaurant. But not so upscale Lorne can't greet them wearing ripped jeans and a t-shirt featuring a big-mouth bass on the front. He also has a steaming plate full of food in front of him, having zero intentions of waiting for them to arrive before he started eating.

He's that kind of guy.

After they're seated, Neil introduces them.

"Nice to meet ya, Alex," Lorne says in a drawl completely out of place in Quebec. He sounds like he belongs in a bad Western, needing a cowboy hat and a Yosemite Sam mustache bouncing over his upper lip. "Neil didn't tell me you were so cute."

Alex blushes and laughs. Neil feels himself go red, too. "I guess he didn't want you to get jealous before you even met me," Alex jokes.

"Nothin' wrong with a little competition," Lorne says, a twitch of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

Neil blushes harder, excuses himself from the table so he can load up a plate of his own and give the two of them some time to talk.

When he gets back to the table—he lingered particularly long at the rows of sushi rolls—Lorne's saying, "So Neil tells me you're a cook?"

Alex chuckles. "I consider myself more of a food enthusiast." His glass of white wine has already arrived, and Neil can tell Alex is psyched to dart off to the rows of delicious food and succumb to his gluttony.

Lorne sees it too. "Why don't you go get yourself somethin'?" he says with gentle laughter. "I'm not goin' anywhere."

That's all the permission Alex needs to hurry towards the buffet lines. Lorne chuckles, watching Alex for a moment as he goes.

Neil clears his throat awkwardly.

"Hey, I'm a guy," Lorne says by way of justification for his ogling. "I can't help it."

"So I guess you like him so far," Neil says.

"He's definitely nice to look at." Lorne leans forward a little, lowers his voice. "I wanna bury my face in his thighs."

Neil chokes on his sweet tea; he's had that same fantasy.

"You're such a prude," Lorne says with a shake of his head. "Always have been."

Neil ignores this playful jab at his modesty. "Look, be gentle with him, okay? He just got divorced a couple years ago, and he's never done this sort of thing before."

Lorne scoffs. "You told me all this on the phone. My memory isn't that bad, Neil. Sometimes I can even remember things as far back as last week."

Why is Neil surrounded by smart-asses?

Yeah, Alex and Lorne will probably get along just fine.

And they do. Over lunch, they make each other laugh, and Neil notices Alex blushing an awful lot for someone who only drank one glass of wine. Alex plays with his hair, the same way he had when he first met Neil, and it feels like Neil is having an out-of-body experience, watching his own first meeting with Alex through someone else's eyes.

After they eat, they're loitering outside the restaurant when Lorne says, "Neil, you don't mind if I take Alex around the city, do ya?"

"Why would I mind?" Neil panics internally, fearing Lorne asks this because he knows the strange sense of ownership he feels for Alex.

"'Cause he's your guest."

"Just drop him off at the house when you're sick of him."

"Okay, _Dad_ , we'll be back by curfew," Alex interjects, snottily.

"Have fun," Neil says, anticipating Lorne will grow exasperated with Alex within two hours and bring him back promptly.

They go their separate ways, Lorne and Alex driving off in the former's Ford pickup, Neil heading north in his own economic family car. He doesn't know why he's so tangled up inside, torn between wanting Alex to be happy and wanting him for himself. As though the idea of Neil and Alex together isn't impossible. Even if Jackie had temporary brain damage and allowed Neil to screw someone else, Neil already knows he wants more than just a one-night affair. He wants the things he has with Jackie: inside jokes, the ability to communicate with minute facial expressions, a comfortable romance.

If Alex and Lorne like each other, Neil wishes them the best. He set them up in hopes of brightening Alex's spirits and providing him with a potential romantic partner. He has no right feeling jealous if Alex actually likes the guy; it's not fair to expect him to pine for Neil indefinitely when there's no hope for them as a couple.

Neil arrives home to find Jackie alone in the quiet house. She looks up from the paperback she's reading—not one of Neil's, thankfully—and smiles at him. "Did you forget Alex?"

"Lorne wanted to show him around," Neil says with a shrug. "He'll bring him back. I guess." He looks around. "Where's Selena?"

"Out with some friends." Jackie sets the book on the coffee table and rises, moving closer. "You know, I think it's very sweet of you to try to cheer Alex up. Lorne too. You know that man could stand to settle down." She lays her hands on Neil's chest, and he feels his world realign.

"I'm just trying to get them off my back," Neil jokes, and Jackie laughs a soft sound. He rests his forehead against hers. This is the woman he loves, the mother of his daughter, half the reason he comes home from his motorcycle jaunts instead of settling someplace new until his wanderlust hits again.

There's a reason he continues to be faithful, despite having ample opportunities shoved in his face like a pair of glittery breasts at a strip club.

Almost as if reading his mind, Jackie says, "We haven't had the house to ourselves in a while." Her fingers tug at his shirt, suggestive and sultry. "We should probably take advantage of it before Lorne brings Alex back..."

Neil takes her upstairs, then his mouth is between her legs, kissing and licking at her private softness in the ways he's learned over the years. Jackie hums and sighs, her fingers pushed into his hair. Her thighs quake on either side of his head.

He does not think of Alex.

Around midnight, Neil hears Alex enter the house using the spare key in the flowerpot; Lorne must have told him how to let himself in. Neil leaves his office and heads downstairs, pretending it's such a coincidence they're running into each other here.

Neil switches on a lamp, and Alex sort of jumps when he sees Neil standing there. "Oh, hey."

"How was your day?" Neil asks, trying to keep any shades of 'where the hell have you been' out of his voice.

"Fine. We got lost for a bit, and Lorne didn't wanna ask for directions. You know how guys are." Alex chuckles, and Neil hears a bit of nervousness.

Alex's hair is mussed in a way that suggests sex has taken place; there's a tell-tale redness on his neck that looks suspiciously like a hickey.

Also he's wearing his t-shirt inside-out.

"Hope I didn't wake you up," Alex says, as though realizing the hour and the hushed nature of the house.

Neil shakes his head. "I was upstairs working. But it's probably time for me to turn in anyway."

Alex flashes him a shy smile. "Well, good night. See ya in the morning!" He climbs the stairs, keeping his footfalls quiet.

Neil stops himself from imagining what Alex and Lorne might have done.

* * *

 

**November 1998**

Neil's life doesn't so much crumble as it does completely shatter after the car accident that kills Selena. Losing their daughter sends Neil and Jackie into a state of despair Neil never knew was humanly possible. Grief seeps into his bones and makes the days long and unbearable. But the suffering destroys Jackie.

Barely months after the loss of Selena, Jackie is diagnosed with terminal cancer. She chooses not to undergo treatment, a decision Neil could handle at any other point in time, but now it feels like she's accelerating her own demise, longing to be reunited with her lost child, or at least to stop the empty ache in her chest.

Now, while Neil grieves for Selena, he must also preemptively grieve for his wife as her condition worsens and her body deteriorates. Jackie seems to have come to terms with her impending death, but Neil is so far from accepting any of this. He's still reeling from the void Selena's death has left in their lives, and soon there will be a new void, a hole in his chest torn open every time he breathes or blinks or looks at a damn thing in this house.

Less than a year after the death of his daughter, Neil buries his wife. Maybe her profound sadness didn't kill her, but it sure as hell didn't help.

The first week after the funeral, Neil retreats into bleached-out memories of Jackie and Selena, craving numbness in bottles of whiskey. He stays in bed, anchored there by an unfathomable emptiness. The sheets still smell like her; as he cries into them, he loses even more of her. He does not speak, his voice used only to sob. The phone rings, but he does not answer. Mail piles up underneath the slot in the front door, envelopes stamped with 'final notice' in red capital letters.

His brother Danny flies in from Vancouver to help him with the estate and maintaining the relative normalcy of his life, but Neil is present only in corporeal form, his mind and spirit absent. How do you find the strength to keep living when your entire world is gone? What is the goddamn point? Neil begins to understand why Jackie chose the path she did, how the pain of loss gripped her so tightly she was unable to do anything but succumb to the darkness pulling her under.

Two weeks. A dead patch of time. Neil decides to put as much distance between himself and this house as possible. He packs a bag and rides his motorcycle, heading south to the US-Canada border. He takes his time driving, beginning with New England then heading through the midwest, surrounding himself with the hues of summer fading into autumn. He roams around the United States for two and a half months, burning his fortune on motels and restaurants, fuel for his bike and, occasionally, repairs.

He reaches the seaside cityscape of Seattle on a bright October day. The sunshine feels wrong. Seattle should be gloomy and rainy, a snowglobe of grey. Over fish tacos, clam chowder, and an Alaskan ale, Neil contemplates his next stop. If he continues heading north, he'll reach Vancouver. Maybe he could visit Danny. And then he wouldn't be too far from Fernie.

Neil hasn't spoken to Alex since before Selena died. He misses the soft cadence of Alex's laughter, his goofy jokes, the easy warmth of his smile. Maybe Alex could help him feel something again.

When Neil reaches Vancouver, he uses a pay phone to dial Alex's number, but learns the number has been disconnected. Alex must have gotten a new number, which Neil would have known if he'd opened his damn mail over the last year.

Neil calls Danny. His wife answers the phone and lets Neil know Danny is out of town on business.

"Maybe some other time then," Neil says before hanging up.

He spends two days loitering around Vancouver before heading towards Fernie.

The small mountain town has flourished since the last time Neil visited, but he's only interested in the apartment complex where Alex lives, where Neil has been sending postcards and letters for almost five years. He finds the proper building and unit, knocks on the door. No answer. He knocks again. He notices a flier for a Chinese restaurant pinned to the door. The other doors in this building don't have them.

Maybe Alex isn't home. Neil checks his watch; it's the middle of the afternoon, so it's reasonable to assume Alex is at work.

The blinds are open just enough for Neil to peer inside and get a passable glance at the inside of the apartment. There is no furniture, just emptiness as far as Neil can see.

Alex is long gone.

There's a hot, sharp feeling in Neil's gut, as though he's been stabbed. He has lost Selena, Jackie, and now Alex. The futility of existence in the face of this nothingness has him teetering, and he leans against the door for stability.

Alex must have moved, and his new address is on the back of an unopened envelope in Neil's cabin. All those missed phone calls. Could Alex have given up on Neil after receiving no response for over a year? No, he would have provided Neil with a way to contact him before the lack of a response annoyed him enough to no longer bother anymore. If Alex has abandoned him, all Neil has to do is explain the last year. Alex will understand loss.

With a heavy heart but a sparkle of purpose, Neil heads east.

He arrives home in November. Snow lies in thick blankets over the ground. Neil trudges through the crunchy white piles and unlocks his front door. Other than the mountain of mail he pushes aside as the door opens, nothing has changed. A film of dust has gathered on shelves and tables and countertops. He sneezes twice before he reaches the carton of unopened letters in the living room. With frantic hands, Neil searches through them for Alex's handwriting. The first few he finds still have Alex's old address, and Neil panics, fearing Alex has abandoned him with no recourse, but at the bottom of the carton he finds an envelope with a different return address in Alex's familiar scrawl.

He tears open the envelope and pulls out a letter:

_Hey, doofus! :) I finally took the plunge and moved to the big city! The rent is a little ridiculous, but I think it's worth it. You were right about how a place can bring you down. I already feel better being here, surrounded by possibilities. I'm a chef at a "real" restaurant now: a swanky place in the TD Centre. We're on the 54_ _th_ _floor, so I hope you're not afraid of heights! Anyway, I just wanted to give you my new address and phone number for your records. For a writer, you're not too great at writing things down, huh?_

_Best regards, Alex_

Neil checks the postmark on the front of the envelope. Just scant days after Selena died. No wonder he never saw this.

And, oh Christ, he missed Alex's birthday two years in a row. Not even a phone call or a birthday card. He's a horrible friend.

He stands up and grabs the phone off the charger, but nothing happens when he dials the numbers, and it takes him a moment to realize the phone's been shut off after neglecting to pay the bill. Damn.

He considers taking a shower, but the water's been shut off too.

Out of options, Neil saddles up on his bike again and drives to the nearest convenience store to use their pay phone, Alex's number and address folded in his pocket. The cold bites at his face as he stands outside the gas station feeding change into the phone.

Alex's voice strikes Neil like a bolt of electricity. "Hello?"

"Alex. It's Neil."

"Oh shit! How are you? Is everything okay? I haven't heard from you in a while. I thought maybe..." He doesn't finish that, so Neil finishes it for him.

"They're gone. I don't have anything anymore. It's all over."

Alex exhales a shaky breath. He seems to hear the pain in Neil's voice, knows a divorce wouldn't make him sound so broken. "Fuck. That's—Jesus... Do you need me to come over? I can be there in a couple hours."

"I'll come to you. Just... don't go anywhere."

"I wasn't doing anything today. I'm here." As though sensing Neil's about to hang up, Alex says, "Take care of yourself, okay?"

Neil makes a noise of acknowledgment and sets the phone in its cradle.

On the drive to Toronto, Neil imagines numerous scenarios of what he might say to Alex, how he will convey what has happened over the last year, but all of his preconceived speeches fall apart the moment Alex opens the door of his high-rise apartment.

Alex has cut his hair, grown a goatee, and gained some weight, but despite his shift in appearance he is still the constant in Neil's life, the one thing that has remained throughout twenty years.

Alex's perfect face crumples at the sight of Neil, as if sharing his pain. "Hey," he says, soft and quiet, and Neil falls into his arms. His body shakes with dry sobs, but he does not cry. Alex holds him until Neil can manage words without falling apart.

"What happens now?"

"I don't know," Alex says. "But I'll help you figure it out."

He brings Neil inside, and Neil gets a look at Alex's apartment. It's compact and trendy, with light clay-colored walls and white furniture. Some of Alex's own paintings hang on the walls, but the artwork belongs predominately to others. Colorful throw pillows decorate the couch. The dining room and living room are on opposite sides, the table and chairs set between a window and the door to the balcony. The kitchen is a little smaller than Neil would have imagined, Alex being a chef and all.

"Nice place," Neil says, shaking off the numb.

"Thanks." Seeing Neil is a bit aimless, Alex says, "You hungry? I can make something if you want."

"Can I use your shower?"

"Sure. Y'know, you're more than welcome to stay the night. Or however long you want. It's the least I can do."

Neil nods, unsure if he should stay but feeling a strong desire to do so.

He finds the bathroom and stands under the hot spray for twenty minutes before even attempting to use soap. He shaves, does his best to appear presentable, and dresses in a t-shirt and sweatpants, intent on spending the night. He exits the bathroom smelling of Alex's soap and shampoo.

Alex is already in the kitchen, having prepared a casserole dish of food. "Sorry, I thought you might be hungry, so I reheated last night's leftovers. Mac and cheese with fried shrimp!" He pushes the half-empty glass dish across the small island at Neil. "This shit goes for fifteen bucks a plate at my restaurant."

Neil isn't very hungry, but his stomach begs to differ. And he doesn't want to be rude by refusing. He scoops out a decent portion with the serving spoon, and they sit at the small round dining table. Alex clears the magazines and assorted mail off the table, sets the pile onto an empty chair. He gives Neil a sheepish, nervous smile, apologetic for the mess.

"Are you happy?" Neil asks so abruptly it takes even himself by surprise.

Alex blinks, like he's unsure how to answer that one. "In some ways. I'm still on the medication, but getting away from that depressing town and out of my dead-end marriage helped a lot. I'm not happy all the time, but who is?"

Alex takes a few hearty bites, and Neil studies his face as it's lit by the fading afternoon sun. He has always been a work of art. Soaking in Alex's beauty, Neil begins to experience things he hasn't felt in a long time, things he should probably hate himself for, feelings that have no place amongst grief and mourning.

"Have you... met anyone?" Neil doesn't see a ring on Alex's finger, but that doesn't answer his question.

Alex chuckles ruefully and shakes his head. "After my divorce I think I was too desperate. I wasn't ready for something meaningful. I just wanted to feel like I had a chance, y'know? I had to know if I was too fat and undesirable for anyone to ever wanna fuck me again."

Alex is so hung up on his weight Neil wonders if that was a point of contention between him and Charlene.

"So you and Lorne..." Neil trails off, shrugging.

"He's a nice guy, and we had some fun, but like I said, I wasn't ready for something real."

"But you're ready now?"

Alex doesn't seem to hear the subtext in that question. "Yeah, but I don't really have time. I mean, I do, but I'd rather spend it watching TV." He holds up his hands as though warding off an argument. "I know, time's tickin' away. I'm not getting any younger. Or thinner." Then Alex sighs, spearing a shrimp with his fork. "God, listen to me bitch and moan. I'm sorry. Do you wanna talk about what happened?"

Neil doesn't, but Alex deserves to know, so he tells him everything. He doesn't cry, which probably makes him seem like an asshole, like he is no longer moved to tears by his catastrophic loss. But the numbness has settled in, protecting him like a blanket of snow.

Alex's eyes are red and wet when Neil's finished. "God, that's so fucking horrible." He doesn't say he's sorry, which Neil appreciates, because it's not Alex's fault anyway, and saying 'I'm sorry' turns the comfortee into the comforter, pressuring you to say 'it's okay' when it totally fucking isn't, when things are the absolutely opposite of okay.

"That's why I didn't call you or write," Neil adds, as though Alex couldn't figure that out. But he wants to put it out there regardless.

"I get it. I don't blame you. How'd you make it this long?"

Neil doesn't know. "I just started driving."

"On your bike?"

A nod. "I stopped in Fernie to look for you, but you were gone. I neglected my mail after Selena..." He doesn't say the word. "So I didn't know you moved until today."

"I worried about you," Alex says softly. "I wanted to visit, just to see if you were alright, but I figured if you needed my help Jackie would've..." He trails off, unsure of himself now that he's spoken her name. "I never thought..."

Neil understands.

After they eat, Alex shows Neil to the bedroom, where Neil promptly drops his belongings at the foot of the bed and crawls onto the mattress.

"I don't mind taking the couch," Alex tells him. "I usually fall asleep watching TV anyway. Stupid me buys a luxury mattress and barely gets the chance to use it." He laughs at himself. "Just let me know if you need anything. I'll be around."

Alex switches off the light as he leaves, and Neil is immersed in darkness. A fine place to be, he thinks as he closes his eyes, still feeling the road running beneath him.

He wakes disoriented a few hours later. Through a gap in the door, Neil can see into the living room. The TV is off, judging by how dark everything is and the lack of flickering light against the walls. He hears soft noises in the kitchen, so he slings his legs over the side of the bed and goes to investigate.

Alex stands at the kitchen sink, drinking a glass of water.

"Can't sleep?" Neil murmurs.

Alex sort of jumps at the sound of his voice, despite its quiet tones. He sets the empty glass in the sink. "I have trouble sometimes."

Alex is illuminated by the moonlight through the blinds, and Neil thinks this is one of those important moments where he could change his entire life if he just took the chance, if he acted on these thoughts and yearnings that have twisted him up for the last twenty years. He has been good, has followed the moral line since he met Alex. Neil has struggled with his wants and reminded himself to be a good husband, not a philanderer, and what did he receive in return?

A dead family.

Fuck it. If loneliness is his reward, he's just going to take what he wants. There's no one left to stop him.

"Then come with me," Neil says, then he's closing the distance between them and kissing Alex. Alex's mouth is wet and cool and perfect, his goatee a sandpaper scratch against Neil's skin. He makes a quiet noise against Neil's aggression. "Stop," Alex breathes, twisting his mouth away so he can speak. "We shouldn't. It's not—"

Neil backs away, but only slightly. He's still in Alex's personal space, almost barricading him against the kitchen counter. Alex's breath is hot against his face as they stare at each other for a long moment.

"It's not what?"

"It's not right." Alex looks at him, almost frightened of what this thing between them has become. "You're grieving."

"That doesn't mean I don't want this."

Alex inhales a shuddery breath.

"I've wanted you for twenty years," Neil says, admitting it out loud for the first time. "We don't have to pretend anymore. We don't have to fight it."

"It shouldn't have happened this way." But Alex takes the hem of Neil's t-shirt in his hands and brings him closer, his arms sliding around his waist. Neil kisses his mouth again, and Alex hums. He wants to touch Alex everywhere. He pushes his hands underneath Alex's shirt, feels the heat of his skin. His skin is softer than Neil thought it would be.

Neil does not compare Alex to Jackie, as though he is completely new again, inexperienced. And the hardness growing against Neil's thigh is definitely new. It's the closest he's ever been to Alex's dick, and Neil's a little flattered just kissing him turns Alex on this much. He wants to reach down there and touch it, but he also doesn't want to take his hands off Alex's middle just yet.

All Neil can hear are short, quiet moans as their mouths give and take. He's vaguely aware of the refrigerator's low hum somewhere behind him, the faraway bustle of the city below them, but his heart's beating so fast it might pop right out of his chest. He skims his fingers along Alex's arms, sliding up to his biceps and then inside the sleeves of his shirt, gripping his shoulders. Alex makes a noise and bites at Neil's lip.

There are a million things Neil wants to do with Alex, so he guides him to the bedroom. He pulls Alex's t-shirt over his head, immediately drawn to the newly-exposed skin of his chest. As he sucks at Alex's neck, his hands slide inside Alex's tattered sweatpants, pushing them over his hips and down his thighs. Alex makes a stunned noise, momentarily separating their mouths as he looks at what Neil has done. He's probably embarrassed about his body, so Neil backs up until he feels the bed against the backs of his knees and sits, pulling Alex into his lap.

Neil goes for the obvious erogenous zone, opening his mouth around a perky nipple. Alex gasps, then the sound is subsumed in a moan as Neil introduces a slight graze of teeth to the sensitive bud.

"Fuck," Alex breathes out, his voice shaking. "Is this—Are we gonna..." His fingers curl at the nape of Neil's neck.

Neil runs his hands over Alex's thighs. " If you want to."

That's all the permission Alex needs. He's reaching over and digging through the nightstand, then he tosses a plastic bottle on the mattress beside Neil. "Put your cock in me," Alex says, like it's something he's wanted for a long time. "If it's not too much."

It is too much, at least for now, but Neil thinks he can satisfy Alex another way. Mouthing at his bristly chin, Neil opens the bottle and gets his fingers slippery. Alex can see where this is going, so he strips off his underwear, all modesty gone in the moment, and Neil finds the spot that makes him quiver and groan a long, satisfied sound.

"Oh God..." Alex's hips move of their own accord, rocking backwards into Neil's hand. Neil lets him, because Alex's body is a delicious mystery, and he wants a bit of guidance, wants to know how to touch him. Before he gets too lost in the sensations, Alex pulls off Neil's t-shirt, moving in to nibble at his collar bones and the slope of his neck. Neil opens him up slowly, exploratory, occasionally pushing a fingertip inside to see how Alex responds.

Alex grunts, rocking back. "You don't have to be gentle," he says, his voice turning up with a smile at the edges as Neil touches him. "Push 'em in. I can take it. I've taken a lot more."

Neil has to keep his imagination on lock-down, otherwise he'll blow his load right here. He eases his fingers in a little deeper than before, and Alex purrs.

"Fuck, I didn't even use my fingers the first time," Alex continues, his breathy words right at Neil's ear. "I used Charlene's vibrator and thought of you. Best fucking orgasm I ever had."

Neil's erection, which has been relatively well-mannered up to this point, surges to life almost cartoonishly, throbbing within the confines of his sweatpants. His right hand is currently, uh, occupied at the moment, so using his left to masturbate is his only option, which he's not thrilled about. It will be clumsy and unsatisfying, and he'd really rather have Alex do it.

"Shit, don't—" is all Neil can manage to grit out, his fingers still stroking and sliding.

"Did you ever think about me?" Alex says, straightening a bit to look at the arousal written on Neil's face. His arms are draped over Neil's shoulders, fingers brushing over his back.

Neil knows what he's asking. "Yeah..."

A dirty smile crawls over Alex's mouth. "Did you get off?"

_Every time._

"Shut up," Neil grumbles. "I can't focus."

Satisfied with this response, Alex takes Neil's face in his hands and kisses him. Neil doesn't argue, because this is a great way for Alex to keep his mouth occupied. And kissing Alex is a new and wondrous experience.

He slips two fingers in, reveling in Alex's hum of approval, the way his fingers dig at Neil's scalp, the way his hips hitch and shove into it. Neil's cock is still a bothersome iron rod between his legs, but he can handle it. He never thought he'd get to do this guilt-free, that he could be knuckle-deep in Alex without any wrong-doing on either of their parts.

Alex yelps, his head tilting up, and now Neil's mouth is on his neck, tongue lapping at the beads of sweat in the hollow of his throat. Alex makes a sound of warning, but he's shaking apart halfway through it, his nails scraping over Neil's back, his cock painting Neil's stomach and chest with hot, stringy white.

It's the most beautiful thing Neil has ever seen. Fuck sunsets.

Neil teases and plays at Alex's hole once it's over, stroking him through the ripples. Alex's breath comes hard and quick, fogging over Neil's shoulder as his head has come to rest there. Neil eases his free hand into Alex's sweat-damp hair as though soothing him.

"Was it worth the wait?" Neil asks.

Alex pauses to catch his breath, then says, "You are." He presses a kiss to Neil's skin as he pulls himself away, gazing down at him with hooded eyes. "Your turn." He gets his hands around Neil's shoulders, and Neil goes willingly against the mattress, trusting Alex entirely to do whatever he deems necessary.

Alex laps at the mess he made on Neil's stomach, which Neil is inexplicably aroused by. Alex kisses down his abdomen, biting at the slope of his navel, his mouth moving down, down, his nose skimming through the patch of hair Neil has neglected to trim, then there's a hot, wet void around his cock, and Neil watches Alex swallow his dick like a fucking pro.

Neil would have been fine if Alex was unpracticed and sloppy, and he can't decide which scenario turns him on more. Imagining all the practice Alex must have had to attain this level of oral mastery is just as hot as if Alex had saved his first act of sucking cock for this very moment.

Alex hums around him, his lips working around the hilt, and every slight movement of his jaw causes his goatee to brush against Neil's balls, and fuck, that's a sensation Neil never really imagined he'd like, but here he is, loving the sandpaper scratch of it.

Neil can't remember the last time he jerked off, so it takes an embarrassingly short time for him to come, and it hits so quickly he can't even warn Alex. But Alex doesn't need a warning; he takes everything Neil gives him, even moves with Neil's hips when they push and arch off the mattress. Neil melts, feeling boneless, feeling something other than endless despair for the first time in what seems like forever.

Alex mouths him until his cock softens and slips out. Then he kisses Neil's hip bone and works his way up to his lips, and Neil doesn't mind the salt-bitter taste. Alex settles over him, his head resting on Neil's chest. Neil gazes at the ceiling and sighs.

"You probably won't have any trouble falling asleep now," Neil says.

Alex chuckles. "Sucks, 'cause I really like you. I wouldn't mind a bit of pillow talk."

Neil is wide awake, temporarily energized by his orgasm.

"Did you get off when you thought about me?" Alex asks. "You didn't answer."

"Didn't I just demonstrate that?"

"It's different."

Neil isn't sure how, but he goes along anyway. "All the time. I've had enough filthy thoughts about you to fill a book."

"Well, now you've got the idea for your next one," Alex says with a grin.

Neil shakes his head, huffing a quiet laugh. It feels strange to laugh after all that has happened to him. "I haven't even thought about writing in a long time."

"I know." Alex sounds oddly shamed. "I was just..."

Neil cards his fingers through Alex's hair. "It's okay. You can always joke with me. Part of the reason I came here was because I knew you could make me smile again. That's what I've loved about you from the beginning."

Neil feels Alex's mouth curve into a smile against his chest. "Is that why you kept coming back?"

"Because I liked you. That's why."

"I'm blushing."

"I know. I can feel it."

Alex snickers, rolling over so he's lying beside Neil. He cuddles close, slinging a leg over Neil's hips. Neil lays a hand over Alex's thigh and pulls it in a bit closer. "I know I can be a real bummer sometimes, but I'll try to be good for you."

"You already are," Neil says, and he means it.


End file.
